


Calm within the storm

by divagonzo



Series: 7 Deadly Sins [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Locked down because it is E rated, Mentions of squicks, Rating: NC17, Ties into some of my other works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: Ron’s home from a fortnight’s mission and Hermione took off to spend the time with him. She has some creative ideas on how they can spend their staycation.





	Calm within the storm

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Seven Deadly Sins fest at Sinfully-Romione at Tumblr. This does feature harder kinks and some squicks so cavet emptor. - _DG_

* * *

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Ron looked up from the parchment reports he was working on after dinner. The table was the only one at home that was big enough for both of them to work in companionable silence. He would be officially off for four days once he sent in the parchment. “Really?”

“Yes, dear. I’m sure.” Hermione had her own stack of parchment and hers was larger, but sorted, organized, prioritized, and laid out with a precision that was completely Hermione.

“But you’ve never – “

She put her quill down and saw how boggled he was. “You don’t have to go back to the Ministry for four days. Harry and Ginny are in Ireland, and my parents are in Berlin for a conference and yours are in Rumania visiting Charlie.”

“And you – “

“I took an extra 3 days off.” The grin on her face spoke of her pride in him, that she was willing to put aside work that she loved doing to spend time with him.

Ron stood up from the table and went around to her bench and sat, kissing her thoroughly. “You do realize that you might have trouble walking when you go back to work.”

“It’s not like anyone except you and Harry notice me in the Ministry.” Hermione picked up her wand and covered her stack of books and parchment, locking them into place. “And he knows to ignore when I’m walking funny.”

“Cheeky witch.” She did the same for Ron’s stack.

“Well, yes, but only for you, it seems.”

Ron pulled her close, letting her feel how turned on he was. “We can start now.” He tried to push her backwards into the tabletop. Hermione pushed him off of her.

“Meet me upstairs while I stop by the loo before you ravish me.” Hermione groped his arse as she left the kitchen.

Ron opted to apparate in his current state, forgoing the stairs. He picked up his wand, focused on their bedroom in Grimmauld Place and apparated the three floors to their room. He stripped out of all of his clothes and got into their bed, letting his mind wander as he settled into the expansive bed they shared. The sheets were soft, the duvet was comfortable and so was the quilt his Mum made for them.

It was probably the smartest choice he made as an adult, hands down. Well, maybe not the smartest, but one of the top ten. Smarter than the nice clothes he shopped for sometimes and certainly smarter than some of the dumb stunts he pulled while working as an Auror. Who knew buying a bed made you feel more adult? She’d spied it at a retailer, marked down by some ungodly amount, because it was something called a floor model, whatever that meant. She asked. He had the galleons, from working with George and the Aurors. He agreed. And they had a very comfortable bed big enough for him to stretch out and shag in.

Hermione came in their room, wearing a housecoat instead of the robes she wore downstairs and proceeded to drop her housecoat on the floor, leaving her in her bare skin. “Blimey, you look fucking amazing.”

“You always say that,” she slid in, shivering for a moment until she warmed back up. “I’m walking more at lunch. It helps with the job stress.”

“I think it’s something to do with magic,” he cheeked and she pinched a rib. “Bloody hell, woman. I might need that!”

She leaned over and nipped him on the neck, making him grow hard. “No but I will need other important things for the next couple of days.”

Ron rolled her onto her back, pinning her into the warmed bedclothes. “You really mean it, that you want me to ravish you the next three days.”

“Well, yes. I’ve not seen you in two weeks and it might sound silly,” she started before stopping.

“What is it?”

“I’ve missed you, us, spending time together, being connected – “

“You mean fucking,” he added.

“Well, yes, that too. I miss you so much when you’re gone and I miss this,” she ran her hands along his back and over his arse, feeling the practically invisible hairs along his bum standing up under her touch, “I miss having you here, driving me mental but also giving me the quiet I need in my head. When you’re gone, it gets too much. And I mean more than just a day. I have to have you. I’m desperate for you.”

“So when I shag you to laughing,” he said.

“I actually feel so much better, and my mind is calm and I can think and it’s quiet in my head and – “

Ron broke her explanation with a guffaw. “Sorted. I get it. I’m your addiction of choice.”

“Yes you are.”

“You know,” he slid down her body some, leaning on her chest and pressing her down while tweaking a nipple, “I have an ego when it comes to making you come.” He bent down to suck on it for a moment, releasing it to see her reaction. “And Merlin knows I want you to cum as much as you want.”

She pulled his ears to get him to snog her deeply, pouring out so much she couldn’t say into that one sulfur-driven kiss. “Ron Weasley, fuck me until I can’t walk, talk or think straight. I want to lose count.” Her passionate gaze gave him all of the consent he needed. “You have three days to shag me silly, however you want.”

“However? You mean anything goes?”

Hermione took a very deep breath. She’d thought throughout many sleepless nights, when her insomnia and anxiety got the best of her, considering what she would – and wouldn’t – be willing to do with Ron – or for him. She’d also talked it over with Ginny, without mentioning names for their own mutual sanity, as well as a firecall with Audrey. Hermione had known Audrey before she was informed that she was seeing Percy romantically so the relationship wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. The formidable witch engaged to the prat discussed, without bringing up names either, about trust and respect and communication, but also willingness to share in things with their partner about possible fantasies and indulging them, as long as it was reciprocated willingly.

There were so many sleepless nights where, instead of sleep, she’d thought about what she was willing – and not willing – to do for Ron. Audrey was right in that it distilled down to trust.

“I know we’ve talked boundaries and what my limitations are, but for this, I might be amenable for a once-off, since I missed you so much.”

Ron broke into a thousand candle grin, like Christmas for a decade came in a moment in a dreary uneventful November day.

“I still reserve the right to say no.”

“I’ll still ask if you’re comfortable with it,” he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

He’d swear his ears were bleeding, seeing they had been between her thighs for at least a half hour. Every time he wanted to dip his wick, she’d shove him back down into her quim, using his fingers and tongue to continue to ravish her. By now, his voice was rough but hers seemed to be breaking from yelling so much, screeching like an owl from diddling her for so long and moaning worse than the ghoul in their attic ever did.

Bugger that because he needed some relief, too.

He pulled his face away from her boiling hot body and knelt between her legs. “Ron?”

“A moment,” he pulled her body next to his and lifted her hips. One thrust and had to fight to keep from exploding immediately. Her warmth was the absolute best place to be, if he ever gave thought to it.

Her hip wiggle was all he needed before he pounded into her as he listened to her say crass things, things that only he was privileged to hear. He touched her bundle of nerves and she said, “ohshityesrighttheremore.” He licked his fingers and did it again and she yelled, clenching around his cock. He exploded, cursing to the ceiling, and kept going.

She didn’t know he’d gripped his wand in his hand, while she was thrashing on the bed under his not-so-gentle ministrations and muttered a charm for his cock, to keep him up longer than his 20 year old body was able to achieve. He ploughed through her ecstasy, through her shuddering and quivering, and let the feelings he knew were inside out, all through his cock. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, all because she was willing to put aside her hesitations and reservations for him. It wasn’t galleons, or tokens she wanted. She wanted him, to spend time with him, to share moments of joy, and pleasures like this. This demure and reserved witch outside of their residence was a banshee in the sheets. His heart could burst in love for the witch screaming from her pillows. She freely gave him anything he wanted, of her body, her mind, her soul, all to please him. What wizard wouldn’t try to capture the stars in the night sky for her, or wrestle the sun into her hands?

Wasting 10 minutes waiting to recharge was too much when Hermione wanted to be fucked. He could release the charm anytime he wanted, and he’d thought it over and decided every second time he came, he’d let go and rest.

Her shuddering was growing in intensity and he knew she’d have an epic orgasm way before he did. He’d seen them, a few times, knowing that she’d sleep for a few hours if he could just get her off completely.

“Hermione, I love you,” he said and watched her eyes open, glazed in the fog of sexual bliss.

“Love you,” she croaked back.

Ron wanted to change positions to something he’d read in one of Fred’s bird magazines. He talked with Hermione about it in bed a month ago, more a case of what-if rather than a practical idea, but now seemed like a good time.

Ron lifted Hermione’s legs from his hips and saw her eyes open some. He smiled and she mouthed, _‘anything’_ and he went ahead with his bright idea. He pushed her knees open and back, folding her into the bedclothes. She grinned and he kept going, pushing her hard enough that his knuckles brushed the bedclothes and slid deeper inside Hermione. They’d never tried this before and the soft skin of her arse was brushing his bollocks on every thrust.

They’d have to do this again.

“Look at me,” he growled and her eyes opened. She was lost in the fog. He did that to her. “Alright there?”

“Yes, keep going. I won’t break.”

So many crass things spilled from his mouth, cursing worse than the time he had to run six miles straight for training with that masochist Jones last month.

He shifted to his hands and thrust like he was hyped up on pepper-up potion. Christ, he’d break Hermione if she didn’t cum soon, with him holding her hips completely open while fucking her brains out. Her greed was going to be the death of both of them.

He couldn’t do that to her, no matter what she offered him.

He moved again, leaning on his left hand completely while taking his right hand off of her thigh and licked the thumb. He moved it into her sodden slit, between the fleshy folds of skin right above her sensitive clit.

“Ron,” her voice came out like a broken prayer.

He rubbed her clit hard and pressed her in half into the bedclothes. He felt her grip his cock impossibly tight before she screamed loud enough to be heard by her parents in Hampstead Heath. He exploded, blowing so hard he would swear he saw the universe explode.

Years later, at least how it felt, he recognized that Hermione was prodding him. “Ron, move.”

“That was fucking incredible.” He rolled onto his other side, freeing Hermione, if he could make a guess.

“It was,” soft hands worked across his chest, along with hot breath across his skin. “But I also know that’s not all you want to do to me.”

“Blimey, Hermione, give a bloke a minute to catch his breath before I get back to shagging you rotten.”

“I’ll give you an hour or more, if you’re tired.” He felt her stifling a giggle.

“Tired?” Ron yawned, feeling the amazing sensations wash all over him. “Well, maybe I am. I could use a kip. Wake me in an hour?”

Ron was asleep before he heard Hermione’s answer.

* * *

“Ron?”

“Impatient witch, it’s only been five minutes,” he grumbled before pulling the pillow over his head. “Give a bloke a minute.” He fell back asleep or thought he did, because he felt warm lips working their way down his cock. “Yeah, suck it,” he mumbled before putting his hands under the bedclothes. He threaded his large hands into her hair, relishing how amazing her hair felt under his fingertips, and held on while she sucked his length.

“Ron,” Hermione’s voice purred.

“Finish me off, yeah, take it all,” he mumbled while appreciating what she was doing to him. Christ, her mouth was so talented, for spewing words he never could fathom to use, or pulling him deeper while giving him epic knobjobs.

He felt the plop. He lifted the pillow from his head, opening his eyes to see Hermione riding him, grinding up and down on his hips.

“I tried to wake you but you wouldn’t budge. I should have asked – “

“’s alright. You can ride me anytime you want. I’ll never turn down a shag from you.”

“You might, dear,” she said in the darkness. “Consent is important.”

“And this is me giving you a lifetime pass of consent, love. If for some mental reason I’m not up for a shag, I must be dead, and you’ve told me that it’s frowned upon in all societies.”

Hermione erupted in laughter and stopped shagging Ron. She fell off of his cock into the bedclothes, chortling in that way that made everything right for his world.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he cheeked.

“Yes it was, considering how barmy dark magic makes things. I had a thought and my mind ran with it and while it’s disgusting and morbid, I did a mental _Ridikulous_ on it and it was hilarious.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“No because it’s quite disgusting if you think about it logically. But then I think I’m completely mental right now so everything seems funny.” She laughed, like warm treacle in his ears. “I’ve been awake for 36 hours now so I’m a bit spare.”

“Um, Hermione, can we get back to what we were doing?” Ron looked down his body to see his cock bobbing impatiently.

“Well, since you’re awake now,” she blushed, hard, which she did whenever she had an idea that might sound barmy, “I’d like to try something I heard about once while having lunch with – “

“If you say my sister, I’m leaving.”

“Fine then, be that way.”

Ron smirked at Hermione’s pout. “Give over. What idea did my completely mental sister of mine have?”

“No, I won’t, because you made fun of where I got the idea from.”

“Hermione!” Ron pulled Hermione under him and started tickling her, making her squirm, hearing her squeal with laughter.

“Fine! You win! You win!” Ron rose up on his knees, laughing hard. He waited patiently for her to catch her breath.

“I think she called wheelbarrowing. I dunno but it sounds athletic and I dunno if we can manage it.”

“That?” Ron hid his knowledge since a few of the blokes in the Auror locker room would boast from time to time about their own kinky prowess. How would his sister – that bloody git. That tosser! “I might know something about it. But I dunno if you are up for it. It might be exhausting, for you, at least.”

“We could use magic, I reckon,” she added.

“We can give it a try and see if it’s a once-off or something you actually like.”

“I read up on it and from what I can tell, you need to be standing for this,” she said.

Ron smirked and did as she asked, standing at the side of their bed. “Now what?”

“I think I need to get here,” she crawled on the bed on all fours to his front, raising her arse up in the air. His cock was instantly hard, seeing her bum in front of him. “You keep that up and we won’t get there.”

She turned her head and gave him a dirty look. “Look, we’ll try it and if it doesn’t work, then you can have me this way.”

“Sorted,” he said.

She budged back and Ron resisted the urge to kneel and bury his face in her quim because this completely mad idea was her idea and he didn’t want to let her down.

“Now lift me by my hips so I can wrap my legs around your hips. When you do, I’ll press up to hold the position.”

“This is barmy,” Ron tried one last time but Hermione’s second dirty look quelled any further potential protests. “Fine. Budge up.” Ron bent over and his cock brushed along her swollen lips. He bit off a crude comment and lifted her up, watching her tits wobble when she pressed up from the bedclothes. He plunged into her sodden flesh and felt her clench along his length. But he waited, biting down on his cheek to keep from exploding while she shifted her knees to squeeze his hips, locking her ankles on his arse.

He nudged his hips forward and felt everything she offered. “Oh fuck, this is incredible.”

“Use your wand for my arms, please. They’re already tired.”

Ron laughed but did as Hermione asked, grabbing his wand with his left hand and transferred it to his right and did the incantation to keep her levitated from the bed. “Sorted.”

“Thanks,” she pushed back against his hips and he cursed again. “You can move, love.”

Ron did, trying to thrust hard enough for friction without breaking her elbows with the pace he wanted to take. His hands were large enough he could move his middle finger a little bit to her slit and pushed into the first knuckle, rubbing gently on her prominent bundle of nerves.

“Ron, fuck,” Hermione squealed. “Yes, please, fuck, more.”

Ron put his knee onto the edge of the bed, shifting her slightly and she froze for a moment before erupting. “Fuck,” she screamed. “Don’t stop, please,” she begged while he kept going through another orgasm.

“Not on your life,” He pulled her hips hard and felt her knees starting to slip. “Let go, I have you.”

She collapsed into the bedclothes and he released the spell from her arms. They fell into the bedclothes and she lifted her arse from the bed. He dove right back in and kept going, fucking her like her life depending on him cumming. Crass words dripped from her lips, half muttered and half articulated while he focused on her perfect arse.

“Ron, I’m – “ She exploded a second time and the thought of Hermione falling completely apart because of him made him explode seconds after her.

“More,” her bare words kept him from collapsing..

“Did you ask for more?” Ron panted out.

“Oh God please, yes.”

“Ok then.” Ron collapsed into the bed and moved, putting his head near Hermione’s hips. “How about sitting on my face and I’ll get you off that way?”

“Ron, I – you don’t – “

“Hermione, this is for you. You asked for more.”

“But I – “

“What is it?” Ron sat up to look at the disheveled witch in front of him.

“How can you do that for me, after what we’ve already done? Isn’t it gross?”

Ron felt the chuckle escape before he could stifle it. Hermione’s dirty look shoved it deep down his throat. “No, dear, it’s not gross. I love getting you off this way. Gross was essence of Crabbe.”

Hermione snorted and he couldn’t resist kissing her for being obtuse occasionally. It was a wonder that she could be shy about some things that he found intensely hot and erotic. But then he also knew that she didn’t consider herself beautiful, enticing, or even gorgeous.

He finished kissing her and lay back down on the bed. “Come, love.”

Hermione did as he asked and she immediately felt the tension building, with his fingers and lips that only he could elicit from her. He knew how to tease her in ways she didn’t know she wanted and was gentle as can be but also took her beyond limits of comprehension or pleasure until she broke, and then pushed just a little more, all because he knew she’d want that from him.

“Yes, right there, please, more,” she prattled, breaking the words into fragments that he took as encouragement. She wound her fingers into his hair, scraping his scalp while he sucked her off. Each caress offered her more pleasure than she’d ever be able to describe or articulate. “Shit, so good.”

Ron kept going, comprehending what Hermione was conveying. But then he was fluent in Hermione and could read her actions like a book. In fact, it was his favorite course of study. He pulled her bundle of nerves between his lips and sucked and waited one heartbeat before she erupted, shuddering and quivering harder than she had in a long time. But he wasn’t through with her yet, because she had wanted this and asked for it. He would take the information to his final resting place, but she was greedy for cumming when he was involved. And he loved the fact that she was so responsive to him. He took enormous pride in the fact that he got to make her cum.

He continued, pressing his fingers up and in and sucked harder. She screamed, with him praying that the silencing spells on their room held long enough, and he took it beyond where he had ever gone before – sucking her clit as hard as he could without hurting her.

Hermione’s squeal cracked. She froze for an instant before passing out, falling into the bedclothes.

“Shite,” Ron tried to move but Hermione’s thighs were across his face and he was smothering. “Fuck,” he wiggled and shuffled and shoved, eventually moving her immobile body off of his face and gulped precious air he needed.

She hadn’t moved where he’d shoved her into the bedclothes.

“Shite! Fuck! No,” He rolled her over and saw the enormous smile on her face and tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Bloody hell, witch! You scared me!”

“Sorry. That was wonderful.”

“Cheeky witch,” Ron plopped down on his stomach next to her while fighting to calm his poor heart. “Doubt I’ll go that far ever again. You nearly smothered me to death.”

“Rubbish,” she replied in a wispy voice. “You’re strong enough to lift me. You’ve done it often enough when we shag.”

“But that’s when I’m upright, not when my nose is buried in your body from you passing out!”

“And you’ve lifted me up when I’m on top of you,” she protested.

“I’m on my back and under you. It’s easier that way, not like you were dead weight!”

“Ron, that’s not funny.”

He broke out laughing and laughed harder when she tweaked a nipple.

“Sorry but I had a thought: Imagine we’d karked it and the Prophet ran this headline: _‘Granger and Weasley, dead at age 20. Voldemort couldn’t kill them but they killed each other. The tawdry exclusive on page 3.’_

Ron opened his eyes and saw Hermione shoving a fist into her mouth. “It’d have been on page one, above the fold, I reckon.” She failed and fell back into the bedclothes, giggling profusely. “That is funny.”

Ron joined her in a fit of giggles.

* * *

“Hermione?” His voice sounded like he’d had too many Firewhiskies with George at the Hog’s Head.

The last day had been exactly what he needed. He mentioned he was famished and exhausted from the day with her, not that he minded the mind-blowing creative shagging they shared. Hermione had a hitch in her step but was also content, calm, and smiling wider than she had in months. They’d retired back to bed after a necessary shower, changing the linens on the bed, and taking a very early supper.

He lifted the covers and saw her breasts along with that nasty curse scar that would never go away. Fuck Dolohov for nearly ruining her perfect breasts. He lowered them and lay back in bed.

Merlin, he loved making her laugh, scream, cry, and giggle. He loved that she would sleep for hours after he fucked her brains out. He loved that what she needed was calm in her soul that only he could facilitate. The war gave her terrible insomnia and only he seemed to make her better. The separation for her schooling and his apprenticeship was hell on earth for her, including weaning off Dreamless sleep for chronic insomnia. She coped better now, once she finished her formal education and he was there for her much of the time. The monster only roared back to life when he was out on missions, whether overnight or weeks on end. She couldn’t sleep, was on edge with work, and no one seemed to know how to help – except shove Ron at her. The first fuck they shared after he returned, whether it was on her desk in her closet called an office or in the women’s at the Ministry, bent over a sink and giving her the business, was what she needed to quell the anxiety that permeated her mind.

She forgave him for being a bastard at walking out on her, and while she said it didn’t affect her, he knew her better. She feared never seeing him again, or worse, and that she’d lose her best friend. He knew the guilt too, which is why he’d give her anything she wanted, as thanks for accepting his sorry arse back, much less putting up with him and his mental schedule, and loving him as passionately as he loved her.

Yesterday did that for her. She slept. She slept six whole hours. He knew she hadn’t slept six straight hours in about six months. Then again, her insomnia was worse when work stress had her frazzled. Work stress included him being out on missions.

He didn’t want to wake her, not when she was sleeping so well. But his cock was also whining. It had been almost seven hours since he’d fucked her senseless. And if he was sent out on another mission, chasing Dolohov, he might be gone for months. He needed these memories to help him cope while he was away from her. She needed these memories to help her cope with the sleepless nights when he was gone. She needed his personal wand, shagging her stupid these remaining two days, making her go hoarse and weeble wobbling in their rooms.

He wouldn’t complain at giving her what she wanted. But she might with his next idea. It was such a barmy idea, one he heard from one of the sods at work a month ago. Or maybe she would humor him this one time, seeing that she trusted him completely.

“You’re thinking about something,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, I was. Completely mental, it is.” He rolled over and snuggled up to her back, burying his nose into her hair. He squeezed her to his chest and she accepted his hug.

“You have an idea, don’t you?”

“Yeah, and it’s mental.”

“Tell me, dear.” She twisted in their bed and snuggled into the pillows, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. He was still half-asleep but she was too. “The worst I will tell you is no, love.”

Ron nibbled his lips and squeezed his hands under the bedclothes. “Forget it. It’s completely mental.”

“Ron, tell me.” She ran her hands through his hair, dragging fingernails across his scalp. He’d answer her when he was ready, when he’d had time to gather and organize his thoughts. The year away from him, off at school, taught her a necessary and brutal lesson in patience. Receiving letters only every couple of days taught her that she had to trust him to answer, to come back safely, to return to her.

“Some blokes were nattering in the locker room about the birds they picked up at the pub.” He hesitated while looking at her sleepy face. “They talked about – “ he stopped. “Nevermind. It’s mental.”

“Shall I guess, love?”

He gave her a flat look.

“The idiots were probably talking about bondage, where they use magic to secure her into a position and have their way with her. It’s probably meant to humiliate and demean but they get their jollies out of it and she might too, depending on the capabilities of the wizard, or she’s a sex worker and paid for whatever fantasy they have. I’m sure they said they asked but it’s something bordering on abusive, dominating her and while she consents, she’s not thrilled at what helps them achieve orgasm.”

“That’s one of it,” he muttered.

“And the other probably has to do with a bit of sodomy, right? Whoever said that,” Hermione gave Ron a look and he kept quiet, to protect the innocent and the guilty, “probably likes witches and wizards and engages in such for their own pleasure, not for the joy of others. That sounds like – “

“Sorted,” Ron replied without explaining further.

She gave him a look in return. “So your idea is to use magic to bind me in a position – “

“Not at all. I’d let you do it, so you could release it if it got too much. You’d have your wand in your hand. I don’t want you feeling helpless if we do that.”

“And maybe engage in a little bit of anal sex because you’re curious.”

Ron refused to look at Hermione. “I told you it was completely mental.”

“I’m giving your idea some consideration,” she said and his cock sprung up in imitation of one of George’s fireworks. “It’s not like I don’t trust you with my life, much less my body.” Ron watched her bite her lips while she thought. “And I’ve not given it much thought since our love life is so satisfying.” She focused on his face in the sunlight, with the glint off of his messy ginger hair and how it made his eyelashes look like spun gold. “But if this is something you really want to try, once, I’ll indulge you.”

“Really? You mean that?” He looked like he won a vault full of galleons.

“You’ve always stopped when I say stop. I don’t think that you’d start today.”

“You’d hex my bits off if I tried anything stupid like that. I fucking love you too much and God knows I respect you even more.”

“That’s what I thought.” Hermione slid off of his chest and out of the bed, wiggling her arse for him.

“Where are you going?”

“Back in a minute, love.” She closed the door out of habit and he collapsed back into the bed. Did she change her mind already? Finding some shoes to throw at him? Calling St. Mungo’s for being completely mental? Getting a beater’s bat to crack over his head? Hit him in the bollocks? Each scenario he envisioned for Hermione punishing him for such a pear shaped idea sent his bits shriveling up into his body.

The door crashed into the wall and Ron jumped. “Sorry!” Hermione pulled it to and closed the door.

“Where’d you go? Everything OK?”

“I asked Kreacher if he would be willing to have lunch made for us in an hour, if he had the time or inclination. He said he would for us.”

“You let the elf see you out of your kit?”

“No, silly. I had a housecoat on when I asked to speak with him. Poor elf has been traumatized enough with Harry and Ginny. I don’t want him seeing me, too.” She dropped the spare housecoat on the floor and slid back into their bed. “I took another dose of potion for the day.”

“Ah.” She settled into his shoulder, warming back up. He was warm and content and this idea was rubbish. He’d let it go because it -

“Now, about your idea.”

“I thought you were going to get a beater’s bad and use it on my bits.”

“Not at all.” She leaned over and kissed him. “How you want to do this?”

“Well, I hadn’t given it much thought – “ which was true yet not, because he’d wanked once or twice to the fantasy in question and it had some merits but it was so mental that she’d have never agreed otherwise.

Hermione rolled onto her stomach and reached for her wand, gripping it in her hand. “So you said you wanted me bound, using magic, right? I’m not terribly fond of rope so silk, perhaps, or will magic alone be sufficient?”

“Look, we don’t have to do this. It’s a rubbish idea.”

“I told you I would indulge you,” she huffed, “and I will do what I agreed to. Now, about this, what if I bound my hands to the headboard.” She did the particular spell once she was in a position that made his cock incredibly hard and while she could wiggle and writhe, her wrists were bound magically to the headboard. “And since you want to do more than just fuck me, I probably will eventually need a pillow under my hips for comfort.”

Ron took his pillow and put it beside her knee, as she insisted. Merlin! He was going to explode from looking at her arse poised up in the air. “Hermione, have I ever mentioned how amazing your arse is?”

“Repeatedly but I don’t see what allures you.”

He reached his cock and stroked it once or twice, just to take the edge off. It didn’t help. “Well, it’s you, and it’s your arse so of course I find it amazing.”

She turned her head and smiled at him. “This is your fantasy so tell me what you want.”

“I never expected in a million years you’d actually consider doing this.”

“I never thought you’d ever ask me to do this.”

Ron moved up behind Hermione and rubbed his cock up and down her slit, find her already sodden. “Wow, I think you might be turned on by this.”

“I am but I’m trying to not think about it.”

“We’ll take our time, to help you relax.”

“That works for me,” she gripped her wand at the headboard, her elbows tucked in on the mattress and he slid into her waiting warmth, relishing her moan when he was nestled inside her.

“I swear, I love fucking you.”

“I’m sure you do,” she cheeked back before moving her knees slightly and he slid in a touch further.

“Shite, that’s so nice.” He reached under her chest and rubbed her breasts, earning another moan from her. He kept going, enjoying the leisurely shag with the beautiful witch lying on the bed, watching her arse jiggle under his thrusts. He shifted down, pressing her into the bedclothes and appreciating some of the softness her body afforded. The years since the war ended had helped her, albeit slower, than it did for him. While he put the weight back on, and then some, in the immediate months after the fighting ended, it took Hermione years to get back to some semblance of normal, at least how he thought she might have looked under her robes.

“Are you ok? No problems,” he slowed to make sure that she was sorted with being restrained.

“I’m fine, love. I’m comfortable.” He leaned in close to kiss her neck and leave a small bite opposite the scar on the other side. She shuddered under his kisses and nibbles, writhing some under his touches and caresses. “Love you,” she purred before he left another love bite, between her neck and shoulder. She froze and sighed. “Love you so fucking much!”

Ron grinned. She only cursed while they shagged, and only after he’d gotten her off – sometimes. “Ready, love?”

“I trust you,” she said in reply.

“But if it gets too much, tell me to stop and I will.” He lifted her up to shove the pillow under her hips.

She looked over her shoulder and he, by force of will, didn’t explode. Her face was slack, eyes lidded, and radiated the love she felt for him. Fuck! He could take on the world with one hand tied behind his back with the look on her face right then – or chase off a swarm of Dementors. Her look would fuel his Patronus for months.

Fuck, they were actually going to do this.

She turned back towards the headboard and moved a little, lifting her arse into the air. Merlin, they were going to do this! She trusted him completely with this completely mad idea. She was willing to do the one thing that she promised him would never happen – all because he had a curiosity to try something barmy.

He was so ready to try this, after hearing the blokes in the locker room saying how amazing shagging this way felt. He ran his hand up and down her lips to gather some moisture. He knew that much, from listening to Fred and George gossip about birds growing up. But the other blokes never mentioned being gentle with the bird in question, or even mentioning them except as someone to shag. Love wasn’t involved. Instead, they went into obnoxious detail about how hot and tight their bird’s arse was when they were fucking. Those sods said it was amazing, like having sex for the first time. One or two even mentioned hitting the bird, worse than spanking. He called them out for being assholes for hitting women, especially during sex.

But her ass! Merlin, she was offering something completely taboo. He heard enough from the other idiots at the Ministry. When they were deep in their drink of choice, they all admitted to dabbling in this taboo more than once. Some did more than dabble.

Fuck, he did love her arse, even more than her tits. Her lips were amazing, for sucking his cock or rowing with him. His hands, though, were made for her ass. It fit his hands perfectly and if he had a guess, he’d be able to bury himself completely. But then he was constantly boggled that Hermione, being as small as she was compared to him, could take all of his cock.

Bill mentioned it, once, in passing, when he was home one Christmas and Ron was younger, how he was out on a work-related trip and hit on a bird in a bar in Afghanistan. He took her back to his tent for a night of fun and it turned out the bird wasn’t a bird. He said why not and had a night of fun anyway.

This wasn’t Bill and a busted date and too much local alcohol. This wasn’t his brothers laughing along and Ron boggled, asking Percy later. This was Hermione, offering him something priceless, something she’d promised him she’d never do – all because she loved him and trusted him even more.

Ron moved in close and saw the redness of her skin along her lower lips and four small bruises, probably from shagging her the day before. She’d never said a word about how passionate he’d been with her while shagging her silly. Then again, she rarely mentioned when she was exhausted, or emotionally drained, or any other sorts of problems – until she exploded, in frustration, anxiety overload, or in the middle of a fuck. She said everything now was mild in comparison

He gripped his length in his hand, stroking up and down, anticipating how incredible the feeling would be, to be gripped that tight again. It would be –

He stopped, remembering what his first time had been.

This was what he needed. He needed her, wanted her. Only she could make him whole. He knew the magic was rolling off of him, shaking the house. Nothing mattered except the solace Hermione offered him. He might regret what he was doing later, but for this moment, he would take what she willingly offered.

Ron felt her hands threading through his hair, pulling him even harder onto her emaciated frame. She opened her arms further, letting him claim her once and for all. Under her robes, her breasts were the only cushion he felt, and those were considerably less than what he knew she was. The bones of her prominent hips cradled his narrow ones. He tasted her, marking her neck, shocked she would relinquish control.

“Mine,” he growled.

“Take me,” she growled back, biting his neck.

“No!” He tried to pull back from her neck. “Hermione – “

She pulled him that much harder, practically butting heads with him. Her eyes were burning in intensity. “Take me, damn it!”

“You – “

“Only you. Always you.”

That was all he needed to hear.

He lasted a dozen thrusts before he exploded and then bawled like a toddler over Fred.

What a first time having sex, with Hermione of all people. He’d already did that to her once.

“Ron?” Hermione turned her head. He saw confusion on her face. “What is it?”

“I – I can’t do this.” He pulled away from her arse, away from the temptation she offered.

She motioned her wand and released her wrists from the headboard. Immediately, she was in front of him, holding his face and seeing how lost he was. “I’m here.” She moved to sit in his lap, kneeling over his slowly deflating erection. “When you’re ready,” she spoke softly across his face and kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his lips.

Ron buried his face into her shoulder, trying to forget that terrible day in May. It seemed so short a time ago. “It’s…” he stuttered, hesitating to articulate the complex emotions swirling through his head like a niffler released into a jewelry store. Tears leaked out and rolled down his face and dripped onto her shoulders. “I can’t do it, not to you, not for this. You’re so bloody important to me. I won’t treat you this way, like a scarlet woman.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ron fought to catch his breath. Moments of that day replayed in his head. Yes, he loved her for what she did for him but she shouldn’t have had to do it. His weakness forced the issue.

“I heard the blokes bragging about how amazing it felt, engaging in that, but none of them mentioned about how the bird liked it. But knowing those sods, they probably didn’t necessarily ask and just did it, for their own orgasm. But it’s not even that,” he sniffed, trying to collect the remnants of the shattered emotional cup. How could he have thought of doing that to her, his beloved Hermione? “The first time you shagged me, you gave yourself to me when I desperately needed something to remind me why I was still alive – and Fred wasn’t. You let me fuck you like a damn animal, not even giving a shit that I did nothing for you that time – or so many more after that.”

She kissed him again, letting him speak without interruption.

“I listened to those sods I work with, and their talk about how amazing shagging an arse is, but what I realized is that it’s not about showing someone how much you love them. It’s not that. It’s about dominance, and power. It’s degrading, and abusive, just like the abuse victims I’ve helped on the job. How many witches and wizards have I helped who were abused by someone the same bloody way? Fuck, how could I do that to you?”

“Ron, I said I’d give it a go. I mean it. I understand curiosity, especially when it comes to these things. How many times have you indulged me in some mad idea, especially when it comes to sex? We’ve done almost everything I thought I’d want to try, but we’ve barely indulged anything you wanted. That’s why I am willing to do so, to show you that I trust you to explore things with me.”

“I don’t like doing things that hurt you, though. Fuck, I’ve hurt you enough for a lifetime already.” He reached up to touch a bruise on the other side of her neck, away from her scar.

She smiled, warming his heart. “And you will again, like I will hurt you, whether I mean it or not. But this is us, not anyone else. We talk, we share, we row and bicker, and eventually come to some agreement. I choose to do this for you because I trust you and I want you to know whether this is a once-off or something more.”

“Hermione, I – I can’t. The thought in my head that I’m hurting you makes my bits ache. I can’t do that to you.”

“You’re not hurting me, love. You forget,” she kissed one spot on his chest that she had left a bite mark on the day before. “I give as much as you give, dear. But if you decide later on that you want to try it, I’ll agree to it. My trust in you doesn’t waver. I know you’ll be tender.”

“I dunno, especially now that I think of it and what so many others went through – “

Hermione brushed her lips across his. “And you know those people get help, from Audrey and others like her, as victims. Many of the assailants died that day and you’ve caught more of the rest that hurt others. You’ll also catch the ones who are still on the run. I have faith in you, and the job you do. But you also need love and joy from our relationship, not a reminder of what was. Yes, that was me, but this is now. You desperately needed me that day and I gave what you needed. I don’t regret for one second what I did for you. I never will.”

“Is that what we have, joy?” Ron looked at the lovely witch nestled in his lap who trusted him with her life and her body. “What we have more than just fucking, right? You love me as much as I love you?’

“Oh Ron, I love you so much,” she leaned in close and kissed him everywhere, claiming his lips last. “You’re it for me. I choose you daily.”

Ron hugged her impossibly close, relishing the feelings she brought out of him, and the patience she had for him where he could muddle what he was feeling and let him explain imperfectly. She was his compliment, and the one who believed in him so much. She inspired him to be better, as a wizard and as a man, and he would work his arse off to demonstrate how much he appreciated his trust in her faith.

Bugger, was he tired, but he had a randy witch in his lap.

“Hermione? You think we could get back to shagging? All of this talk with you sitting in my lap has me randy for you.”

She wiggled in closer, letting his cock slide into her. Both sighed in appreciation. “Ron, make love to me, please.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” he replied and thrust up, driving his cock deep. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She chose to give him anything he needed and wanted. He’d give her his life if she asked for it and he’d call it a fair trade. She was his shelter in the storm called his life and she was the calm when the outside world was a storm he had to battle.


End file.
